


The Waltz of Winter and Spring

by Sobari



Category: The Magnificent Seven (2016)
Genre: I don't know how else I'm supposed to tag this, M/M, Nature Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:14:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21868846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sobari/pseuds/Sobari
Summary: There was laughter in the winds, and a story told by the songbirds. The trees rustled their leaves in anticipation, and the flowers sway, passing messages by whispers too quiet for the ears to hear. But they watch, and they listen, knowing the secrets of those who took them for granted.Seek through the forest. If you can hide from the Great Guardian of the Forest, then maybe, just maybe.Maybe they will tell you about Winter and Spring.
Relationships: Goodnight Robicheaux/Billy Rocks
Comments: 6
Kudos: 13





	The Waltz of Winter and Spring

**Author's Note:**

> Starring Goodnight as Old Man Winter. LOL.
> 
> There may be a chance that I would add more to this AU because Red as the Great Stag Guardian (Inspired by Princess Mononoke) and Sam, a unicorn halfling is what my mind jumped to while I was writing this. 
> 
> This is not my best work, however. But I wanted to write at least one Goodnight/Billy fic after many failed attempts.
> 
> Thank you for reading!

He was brought to life with a ball of snow, a thread of magic and a breath of winter on his face. The chilly air filled his body, and his wings cracked, breaking free of its icy cage.

He tested his limbs and fluttered his wings. He took the first step forward, then jerked back, gasping in wonder when frost appeared under his foot and coating the grass under his feet with a layer of ice. He looked up when the north wind greeted him as they circle him.

He reached a hand up, and the winds wrapped around his arm and _pulled._

Flying was natural, but oh so exhilarating. Snowflakes danced as he laughed. He whooped and hollered as the snow fell, spinning and swirling as he danced.

They were alive and exploring the wonders of living with him.

He brushed his hand against trees and bushes as he flew past, letting red berries burst into life.

He brought his hands together, cupping the snow in his hands, pinching it this way and that until it formed a shape. He breathed on it. The snow melted into fur, and the two pebbles turned into eyes. The bunny's nose twitched, and then it jumped from his hands and disappeared under a bush.

He flew high, watching the curious humans attempt to catch the snowflakes within their palms.

This was joy.

This was his purpose.

And then, anger. Fury.

He doesn't remember what happened or what caused him to lash out so viciously. But he remembered feeling the anger that took hold of his actions and flooded his mind with hate. He remembered the snowstorm that buried houses and humans alike.

He remembered the hate that those ungrateful humans spat toward the sky. He turned that into fear. The snow nipped at their fingers and toes, and the icy wind stole their breaths. Snow and wind joined, swirling in fury. They screamed, sounding like a haunting melody to those who cared to listen.

He was angry, and he was hurt. It felt right. It felt _good._

A human boy wept over the frozen corpse of his mother, the tears froze on his face, and yet he continued to cry. The boy asked one question that haunted him to this day.

_Why?_

And the snow stopped falling.

His wings withered, and his hair grew, mangling within dead leaves and weeds. He did not sleep or wake. He was in a state of in-between, neither living nor dying. Even the north wind left him, for he couldn't hear their whispers.

The frost had lost their glamour, for he had seen them for what they are, or rather, what he was.

The knowledge was worse than dying.

Then he met Spring.

Spring was born inside of a flower, touched by the songs of songbirds, and kissed awake by the dutiful bees. His wings were like flower petals, delicate yet resilient. His eyes, while dark, were so alive, so vivid, and for the first time since Winter took his first breath, there was warmth coiling in the depths of his center.

It was alarming because Winter was not capable of feeling warmth. He was cold all over, ice to his core. But when Spring looked at him, he thought he was going to die.

Winter fled.

He wasn't following or lingering around. But that was precisely what he was doing. He couldn’t help but stare in awe as flowers bloom under Spring’s gentle touch or when Spring guided the small critters back home.

The trees swayed to his songs, and dandelions greeted him as the seeds floated past. Spring was life and gentle. He was lovely.

He looked at himself, withered and dull. Tucked away in the shadows where the leaves have yet to grow. He tugged his hair free from where it snagged on a branch. That, too, lacked the luster it once possessed.

But that was acceptable. Because while Spring was life, he was death.

He lifted his head to watch Spring again when he tumbled back in shock. Spring cocked his head curiously as he watched him. Moss and fresh grass grew under his feet as he took a step closer.

In his panic, Winter swiped at him, releasing a gust of wind and snow. Spring made a sound of surprise, like the sharp clang of chimes on a windy day. And then he slipped on ice and fell off the branch.

Winter let out a cry, and his body darted forward before he could realize what he was doing. His hand wrapped around Spring’s delicate one, and for a moment, he forgot how to breathe.

Snowflakes and petals mingled and dance to a song that no one could hear.

Spring’s wings fluttered behind him as he rose, peering down at Winter. Snowflakes clung to Spring’s hair, melting into droplets that decorated his hair like beads. Spring did not let go of his hand.

His touch was warm yet cool.

 _See here._ Spring said, letting him watch the buds push through the melting snow. _You kept them warm and protected._

He blinked startled. Warm? Protect? There was no such thing. Winter was cold and merciless, killing anyone unfortunate to succumb to its embrace.

 _Warm. Protect._ Spring insisted. _They live._

Spring’s hands pushed back his hair, making the ice coating crack and fall from his hair. There was a smile on Spring's face that he had never seen before, and the ball of warmth that coiled within his core began to unfurl.

_Thank you._

Winter breath hitched at the words. His eyes searched Spring’s face for any mockery only to find none. Spring’s words echoed in his mind, threatening to sink into the warmth that found its way to his core.

Spring’s smile was like the sun on his face. The ice in his eyes began to melt, and they to roll down his face like tears.

It was warm where Spring had touched him, spreading and growing into something new. Winter was scared, and yet he couldn’t stop watching the butterflies combing through Spring’s hair or the gentle kiss that turned the rabbits’ white coat to brown. Or how Spring looked at Winter like he meant something. Like he wasn’t the monster in the stories that humans tell.

 _You’re the sky. The blanket that shields us from harm._ Spring grasped his hands and slowly flew him up toward the sky. _You’re the delicate crystals that dance, the laughter in the winds, the playful touch upon our cheeks._

Spring let buds grow in Winter’s hair, tying it back as he adjusted his hands. _Dance. Smile. Laugh. For they are you and you are them._ Then Spring smiled. _Will you grant me a performance?_

Winter couldn’t help but stare, captured by Spring’s words and the sincerity in his eyes.

The warmth burst from his core and engulfed him.

For the first time in years, his wings glowed, the dullness of his skin flushed with life, his hair shorter, tangled in flowers and vines. The north wind giggled in his ears, low and teasing. Spring laughed, like an orchestra of birds in the early mornings as Winter spun him in the air. Delicate crystals drifted from the sky, joining the flower petals in a slow waltz.

Spring, beautiful Spring, flew with him, dancing like the petals he left in his wake. Such a sight left him breathless. Winter cupped his hands and blew gently, letting snowflakes to cling to Spring’s hair.

Winter’s heart pounded against his chest from warmth and liveliness inside of him. He looked at Spring, catching the expectant smile on his face and the dark eyes that sparkled vividly of the flames of life. Spring unfurled his fingers to expose the seed to the world, letting it grow and blooming into a butterfly within seconds. It fluttered around Winter, brushing a kiss to his cheek before it flew away. 

Spring held out a hand toward Winter for an encore, wings beating behind him in contentment.

Winter took his hand, melting the last chains from him, and he never felt so free.


End file.
